


the wonderful mess we've made

by theagonyofblank



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theagonyofblank/pseuds/theagonyofblank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That's all it was: just one best friend helping another out. (Or, how fake dating wasn't all it seemed.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you’ve hit a wall and you’ve hit it hard

**Author's Note:**

> A little while ago, I posted a meme on my Tumblr and [novak-fan](http://novak-fan.tumblr.com) requested: fake dating + Spencer/Aria. What actually resulted can be found [here](http://sauerstoffs.tumblr.com/post/61664910490/oh-can-i-choose-two-pretty-little-liars).
> 
> The idea stuck with me, though, and I decided to turn it into a multi-chapter fic. This fic will differ from the drabble in some areas, but the overall idea is the same.
> 
> Written to Bastille's album "Bad Blood." All lyrics belong to them.

**fake** 1  [feyk]  ** _adjective_**

 ** _1._** not genuine; having a false or misleading appearance

 

 **dating** 4  [ˈdeɪtɪŋ] **_noun_**

 ** _1._** the action of doing any sort of activity to gain acquaintance with someone romantically  
 ** _2._** to see someone

 

*

The invitation came on a dreary Tuesday afternoon while she was swamped with work.

“Miss Hastings,” her secretary said, knocking on the door exactly three times before poking his head in. Spencer nodded absently without looking up from her paperwork, and after a few moments, he approached her, holding out an envelope. “This came for you in the mail.”

 _Spencer Hastings_ , it said on the front – followed by her company’s address. Who in the world would think to write her at her _office_? Curious, she took the letter from her secretary, dismissing him with a thanks and a wave of her hand.

There appeared to be a slight bulge in the middle of the envelope, and her morbid mind couldn’t help but drift to the worst possibilities – some dangerous drug along the lines of Anthrax. Being the Associate Director of a financial investment company on Wall Street would be unlikely to draw that kind of attention, though – the CEO, perhaps, but certainly not _her_ – and so she pushed the thought to the very back of her mind as she opened the letter.

She immediately found herself staring at large block letters:

TOBY & JENNIFER

It was simple but elegant, printed on very expensive cardstock, and the entire contents of the letter were held together by a neat red bow.

Untying the bow, she found that the wedding invitation was spread out over three separate cards. The first she had already seen – the topmost card with Toby’s and Jennifer’s names on it, though when she flipped the card to the back, she was greeted by a Polaroid shot of the couple smiling at each other. She didn’t like the way her heart lurched, so she put that card down in favour of the second one. This one detailed the wedding date and time as well as hotels nearby. The third and last card was a response card with a Post-It note stuck to it.

Upon closer inspection, she found that it was directly addressed to her:

 _Spencer,_ it said in a messy scrawl that she recognized as Toby’s, _don’t say you’re too busy with work._

Sighing, she set the card down and rubbed her temples. It had been eight years since they had broken up, and Toby still knew her so well. She probably should have stopped going out for coffee or drinks with him a long time ago, but like Emily had discovered, he was an even better friend than boyfriend.

There really was only one thing to do, so she picked up her phone and dialed.

Toby picked up almost immediately.

“My office, Toby, really?”

His laughter was loud and open, and Spencer couldn’t help the smile that wormed its way onto her face. “I figured that would get your attention, since you never check your mail at home,” he said. There was a brief pause that was broken only by Spencer’s sigh and the static over the line. “So,” he started again, “are you coming?”

Spencer rolled her eyes, even though no one was there to see it. “Of course I am.”

 

 

*

And just like that, the matter was settled.

Spencer sent the invitation back in the mail two days later, going so far as to check the box ‘yes’ next to the inquiry for a plus one. She didn’t exactly have a date in mind, but she chalked her actions up to some sort of misplaced attempt to show that she was doing just fine. That just because Toby was getting married first didn’t mean that he had somehow _won._

“Can’t you ask Wren?” Emily suggested over the phone with a sigh.

“He has that girlfriend now,” Spencer reminded her. “The clingy one.”

“Oh.”

There was a brief silence on the phone, during which Spencer could hear Paige saying something in the background. Though Spencer had remained close to all three of her high school best friends throughout UPenn and the years after, Emily was always the first one she turned to for advice – in part because of Paige, who always gave sound suggestions.

“Paige says you should go solo,” Emily relayed the information with a small chuckle.

“Tell her that if she wants to go solo, she can,” Spencer retorted. “I’ll take you as my date.”

There was laughter on the other side of the line, and Spencer figured that Emily must have switched her over to speaker phone. The next voice she heard was Paige’s, and it came through loud and clear, “Nice try, Hastings. You had your chance with my girlfriend; now back off.”

“Hey, McCullers,” Spencer said sternly. “You have to put your money where your mouth is.”

There was more laughter, and Spencer smiled, absently tapping her fingers against her remote as she flipped through the channels on mute, finally settling on CNN.

By the time they hung up, Spencer was feeling marginally better. It was a small comfort that both Emily and Paige would be at the wedding; with any luck, they would be seated together at the wedding dinner, so she would have at least two familiar faces to keep her occupied.

It hardly meant that she was giving up on finding a date. She had six months. She would figure something out.

 

 

*

“Who has a February wedding, anyway?” Spencer was saying, pout forming on her face as she dropped her face into her hands.

She and Aria were tucked into a little corner of one of the better Ethiopian places Spencer had discovered while traipsing around New York, dining on doro wat and injera.

When she peered up from her hands, she found Aria smiling kindly at her. “It’s Valentine’s Day,” Aria said. “It’s romantic.”

“It’s not going to be very romantic in ten years when they hate each other and have to get a divorce because that’s the only way they can settle their ‘personal differences,’” Spencer muttered, tearing off a piece of injera and scooping a healthy amount of doro wat onto it. “Every time a new Valentine’s Day comes, they’ll just be reminded of their wedding.”

“Spencer,” Aria admonished, hiding a laugh behind her hand. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

Spencer shrugged nonchalantly, chewing on her food. She was far from an optimistic person; the word “realistic” was a much more accurate description. Having had lawyers for parents probably contributed to that. Spencer was just glad that Aria, however scandalized, did not seem surprised. “What are you doing on February 14th?”

Aria arched a slender eyebrow. “Are you asking me out, Miss Hastings?”

“I don’t see you saying no, Miss Montgomery.”

“Are you—” Aria looked closely at Spencer, studying her. “Are you actually asking me to go to Toby’s wedding with you?”

“Yes,” Spencer replied, and it was only as the words left her lips that she realized she was being completely serious. It hadn’t been her original intention, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Who better to show up at a wedding with than one of her best friends? And Toby would be none the wiser; while she did meet up with him from time to time, they seldom broached the subject of her love life, or lack thereof. It was perfectly possible for Spencer to have started seeing Aria at some point in between.

“As a _date_ -date?”

“Why do you sound so surprised? You’ve dated women before.”

“ _I_ have,” Aria replied with emphasis on the ‘I,’ staring at Spencer in disbelief. “The only people you’ve been in a relationship with have been men. And your work.”

“Okay, that was uncalled for,” Spencer frowned, surprised to find that the remark stung.

Aria sighed. “You’re right; I’m sorry. I’m just surprised.”

“What’s so implausible about this?” She paused, trying to see why this arrangement wouldn’t benefit Aria in any way. Maybe she was already seeing someone else? But they’d been talking for an hour, and Aria hadn’t mentioned anyone. “You get to eat free food, drink free alcohol, and fake-date me. It could be a lot worse.”

Aria laughed, taking a sip of her wine. “Okay. You know what, I’ll make you a deal: I’ll be your backup plan. If you don’t find somebody else to be your date by February, I’ll go with you.”

Part of Spencer wanted to point out that Aria shouldn’t be anyone’s backup plan – she was Aria Montgomery, for god’s sake – and Spencer certainly hadn’t asked her as a last resort. An afterthought, perhaps, but that was hardly a backup plan. In fact, as far as plans went, Aria was pretty much her Plan A. And Spencer wasn’t one to have a Plan B.

Go big or go home, right?

But Aria didn’t need to know any of that.

“Fine,” Spencer finally said, holding up her wine glass to clink against Aria’s. “You have a deal.”

 

 

*


	2. oh, where do we begin

 

Spencer’s busy schedule left her very little time for a real life. When she wasn’t in meetings, she was conversing with clients about their accounts or even about the state of the market. Not that she had time for the latter, but many were important, high-level clients and when they told her to jump, the only appropriate response she could give was, “How high?”

She was good at what she did, and the fact that she had climbed the corporate ranks pretty quickly did not exempt her from dealing directly with clients. Most of them only asked to speak with her if they were old clients of hers, or when they were particularly dissatisfied with the performance of one of her staff members.

“Spencer.”

Spencer bit her lip to keep from sighing.

Because when she wasn’t doing one of the two aforementioned things, then she was being pulled into so-called meetings with the Senior Director, who seemed to spend all his time meeting with the various Associate Directors and not actually doing the other part of his job description: overseeing projects and managing new clients.

“Jack,” Spencer replied, plastering a smile onto her face as she allowed herself to be ushered into his office, silently hoping that the meeting wouldn’t take long.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t that lucky. By the time she left his office, it was ten minutes to eight – a quick check of the calendar on her phone informed her that she had a dinner meeting with Aria in exactly forty minutes. She would be cutting it close with the subway, but she was pretty sure she could still make it on time. Cursing under her breath, she gathered her things and left the office.

“Wow, Spence,” Aria said by way of greeting, standing to give her a hug. “You look exhausted. Are you sure you don’t want to reschedule this?”

Spencer smiled, and though it was tired, it was also the first real smile she had smiled all day. “I’m already here, aren’t I?” Spencer replied dryly. She shook her head, and when she spoke next, her tone was kinder. “This dinner is the only thing keeping me alive right now.”

It was true: it was good to be out in the city, to breathe in the polluted air that was ten times fresher than the stale air in her office.

“If you’re sure,” Aria frowned, taking a seat again, and Spencer could sense the concern in her voice.

“I am,” Spencer assured her, reaching for the wine card and glancing through it.

It didn’t take long for the waiter to come by and take their drink orders, and though Spencer was usually a white wine sort of person, she settled for a glass of red this time around.

“That bad of a day?” Aria inquired with a raise of the brow.

“Don’t get me started,” Spencer said, inwardly willing her wine to arrive soon, “or we’ll be stuck on the subject of Jack Russo the whole evening.”

Aria huffed a knowing huff – she knew _all_ about Jack – and the answering smile on Spencer’s lips, however small, was completely natural.

While she and Aria had always kept in touch – and they were arguably closer than, say, she and Hanna were – they had been meeting up more often as of late. It seemed as though the dinner they had shared the previous month had sparked something between them: a renewed interest in keeping in contact, perhaps. Whatever it was, Spencer was just glad she got to see her friend at least once a week now.

Whether it was for drinks, coffee, or a lunch date, she enjoyed the time they spent together. It was almost as though they were in high school again, where their biggest worry was their next exam and getting into college. Talking to Aria was like a trip down memory lane; it was easy, relaxing, and fun. It was beyond wonderful to be able to talk to someone who didn’t just want to pick her brain about stocks, bonds, or anything finance-related.

Aria helped her to forget her work, at least for a little while, and Spencer was thankful for that.

 

 

*

The next time she saw Aria was at Sunday brunch a week later.

Emily and Hanna were in attendance as well; Hanna had recently returned from a two-month-long trip to Japan – as a fashion consultant at Vogue, she had been sent abroad to oversee a fashion spread they were planning – and upon her return, Emily had organized a reunion brunch.

“Work still rough?” Aria asked sympathetically as Spencer joined them at the table.

“Yeah,” Spencer sighed, slipping her phone into her purse. She was the last of all four of them to arrive, and she’d spent most of the walk to the restaurant reassuring her ever-demanding boss that their latest crisis would be handled. It wasn’t anything that required immediate attention, though she would have to stop by the office later that afternoon.

“What’s wrong with work?” Hanna asked curiously, looking between the both of them. “Is it that boss of yours again? What’s his name? Jake?”

“Jack,” Spencer corrected.

Hanna rolled her eyes. “Close enough. He really deserves a kick in the—”

“I’m sure Spencer can handle him,” Emily interrupted, frowning at Hanna.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Spencer agreed thoughtfully. “Maybe it would inspire him to do his job.” She shook her head. “Enough about me. Tell us about Tokyo, Hanna.”

“It’s like New York, but with a lot more Asian people, if you can believe that.”

“Hanna!” Aria laughed.

“What?” Hanna shrugged. “It’s true.”

Spencer looked unimpressed. “You must have more to share after two months of living there.”

“Well, they’re a lot nicer than New Yorkers.”

“That’s not very hard to beat,” Emily pointed out.

“New Yorkers are nice,” Spencer said, feeling the need to defend the city she had grown to love.

Everyone turned to stare at her.

She rolled her eyes. “They’re genuine. They don’t need to be _nice._ They have places to go, people to see. Important things to do.”

“You realize that you’re practically a New Yorker,” Aria said with a small smile.

Once Spencer realized her lips were quirking upwards into a smile, she pulled them down into a frown. Her lips had no business smiling of their own accord, even if they had the annoying tendency to do so around Aria. “And you’re not?”

“It’s not a bad thing, Spence,” Aria explained with a chuckle. “Remember when we first moved here, all those years ago? You adjusted to the New York mindset the most easily out of the four of us.”

They hadn’t all moved to the city at the same time, but Spencer understood her point. She opened her mouth to respond, but was prevented from saying a word as the waiter swooped in, ready to take their orders.

It was probably a blessing in disguise; this discussion was going nowhere.

 

 

*

“Please tell me you’re not at work.”

Spencer looked around at the papers scattered on her desk. It was a Friday evening, but the office was still busy. There was a low chatter coming from outside her office, and a quick glance through her glass wall showed her that the first-year analysts were still hard at work on the phones. Across the hall, she spied Jack pacing circles in his office. Adjusting the phone on her shoulder, she pressed a hand to her temple.

“I’m at home?” she tried, knowing Aria wouldn’t buy the excuse for a second.

“You’re a terrible liar, Spencer.”

“I have a lot of work to get done,” Spencer sighed, her explanation half-hearted as her eyes drifted back down to the endless amount of work she still had to complete. This was going to take a lot of coffee.

“When will you be done?”

“Never.”

“Spencer.”

“A couple of hours, maybe.”

“Okay. I’ll be home later tonight, so drop by when you’re done.”

“What?” Spencer asked, pleasantly surprised. Then, teasingly, “No hot date?”

“Who needs a hot date when I have you?”

Spencer snorted. “Wow. I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Only for you, Spence,” came Aria’s voice over the phone, sickeningly sweet.

“And I suppose I should feel special.”

“You should feel very special,” Aria agreed, and Spencer knew she was smiling. Her voice took on a knowing tone as she added, “You haven’t eaten, have you?”

“How is that relevant?”

Aria sighed. “Come over when you’re done. There’ll be leftover Chinese for you.”

Before she could protest, Aria had hung up.

Her friends were so demanding.

 

 

*

It was three minutes to midnight when Spencer found herself outside Aria’s apartment.

She was buzzed in without so much as a “Who’s there?” – and by the time she reached Aria’s front door and rang the doorbell, her expression was set in a frown.

“I could have been a burglar.”

Aria raised a brow. “Hello to you too, Spencer.”

“Hello, Aria,” Spencer responded impatiently, before returning to her initial topic: “I could have been a burglar.” She paused, shrugging off her jacket and folding it over her arm. “You should really consider checking who buzzes your intercom in the dead of the night.”

What resembled realization dawned on Aria’s face, and even that was quick to give way to fond exasperation – or what Spencer assumed to be fond exasperation, at any rate. Aria had always been more difficult to read than Emily or Hanna, and this hadn’t changed with time. “You’re worried.”

“You’re a tiny person,” Spencer stated, as though that explained everything. Which it mostly did. How was Aria supposed to fend off a burglar? Assuming the burglar was a large, hulking person, no amount of self-defense classes could best that.

“So you remind me every few weeks,” Aria said with a dry laugh, cracking the door open even wider and ushering Spencer in. “Come on in. I have _Gilmore Girls_ and Chinese waiting for you.”

“This is why I love you the most.”

Aria smiled – it was a strange smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes but was somehow no less genuine. Spencer didn’t understand it and had to resist the urge to do something stupid, like reach a hand out to cup Aria’s cheek, or even worse: compare it to something ridiculously poetic and incredibly lame.

These weird urges were just brought about by hunger. Hunger, and a very long day at work with her incompetent boss.

Nothing that couldn’t be fixed by Chinese food, _Gilmore Girls_ , and quality time with Aria Montgomery.

 

 

*


	3. the last people standing at the end of the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted just in time for Halloween!
> 
> I'd also like to extend a big thank you to [novak_fan](http://novak-fan.tumblr.com) for her help and encouragement.

Halloween season was a stressful time of the year for Spencer. Not just because of work reasons – which were already proving to be a headache and a half that did not show signs of subsiding anytime soon – but also because Emily, Aria, and Hanna had all decided to take it upon themselves to ask after Spencer’s dating life any opportunity they got.

“You said you’d try and find a date,” Aria reminded her.

Spencer didn’t have the heart – or the intention – to tell her that she was still Plan A. “I _have_ a date,” she said instead.

“I don’t count.”

“Of course you do,” Spencer frowned, shifting the papers in her hand to the ‘useless-and-to-be-shredded’ pile on her desk. “Need I remind you that I have four months to find another date for the wedding? That’s still quite some time.”

“You don’t seem very motivated to find a cute guy.”

Spencer sighed. “That’s because I’m not. I’m perfectly happy having you as my date. I’m starting to think you’re the one who doesn’t want to be dragged along to this soiree.”

“So you’ve said. Give me the real reason, Spence.”

Spencer frowned, but remained tight-lipped. She might have sighed, but let the record show that she didn’t utter a single word.

Not that it mattered; it seemed as though Aria could read her mind anyway, because the next words out of Aria’s mouth were: “You’re not seriously turning this into a _competition_ —”

“—He’s getting married,” Spencer interrupted with another sigh. She had been doing that a lot, lately, but maybe she only had her friends and their inane line of questioning to blame. “And I’ve barely dated anyone since he and I broke up years ago. Even you have to admit it’s a tiny bit pathetic.”

There was a silence on the other end of the line. Spencer took that as a sign that she had driven her point home, and was about to say her goodbyes and hang up when Aria spoke up. “I thought you were over Toby.”

It irked Spencer that Aria was using her careful voice with her – as though Spencer was a fragile thing about to break. “I am,” she answered, a little more forcefully than necessary.

“I’m worried that you’re taking this too seriously,” Aria said thoughtfully, apparently deciding to change tactics. It was probably a smart move. “I just want you to have fun at the wedding, and I think you’d enjoy yourself with someone you actually like.”

“Aria,” Spencer said, unable to believe she was actually having this conversation. “I always take things seriously. Besides, you’re one of my best friends. Of course I like you. I more than like you.”

There was a chuckle on the other end of the line, and Spencer knew that the topic would be dropped, at least for the time being. “Okay, but don’t think this means that this is over. We’re still going to find you somebody gorgeous you can display on your arm.”

 

 

*

As it turned out, Aria had been serious about finding an alternate date for her.

Well, Emily was, at any rate – because that was who called her at nine on a Wednesday evening, when she was buried elbow-deep in paperwork, to fill her in on the details of her upcoming date. Glancing around at her work, Spencer wondered how much time she would have to dedicate to meeting whoever this guy was, because she had a feeling she wouldn’t be getting out of this that easily.

“His name is Logan,” Emily informed her, “and he has a very nice smile.” There was a brief pause, and her next words were hesitant, “He’s a lawyer.”

Spencer groaned. She had half a mind just to hang up, but she knew that only meant incurring Paige’s wrath, and well… she liked receiving baked goods every now and then. “ _Em._ A lawyer – really?”

Emily had the grace to sound sheepish when she replied, “He’s not so bad, Spence. I think you’ll like him.”

“Not if he talks about his case briefings the entire night,” Spencer muttered. Listening to her parents discuss their cases throughout her childhood was more than enough; just because it had been a few years since she’d heard any lawyer talk didn’t mean she needed a round two.

“Just give him a shot. It’s just dinner on Saturday. How bad can it be?”

 

 

*

“It was terrible,” Spencer was saying, phone balanced precariously between her ear and shoulder as she jimmied the lock to her front door. It was _always_ stuck. With a slight shove, the door gave way, and she picked up her groceries from the floor and shuffled her way into the apartment.

“I’m sure it wasn’t terrible,” Aria replied calmly, her voice filling the room as Spencer set her groceries down on the counter and switched her to speakerphone. “Emily said he was cute.”

“You’re trusting Emily’s opinion on this?”

“She has eyes.”

Spencer huffed. “Next time, tell Emily— that there won’t be a next time. She is officially barred from setting me up with anyone again.”

“Was it really that bad?”

“You weren’t there,” Spencer muttered, defensive. In all honesty, Logan had been nice. Nice, and incredibly dull. “It was awful.”

“Now I know you’re just exaggerating,” Aria snorted.

“I’m being truthful,” Spencer corrected, reaching into the bag to unpack her groceries. “There’s a difference.”

Aria coughed loudly. “Drama queen.”

“Tiny person.”

“Shut up.”

“Does this mean I win?”

“Uh, definitely not.”

 

 

*

Drinks with Hanna on Thursday evening was a welcome break from her work, though Spencer wasn’t entirely sold on the idea of drinking on an empty stomach. Waving the waitress over, she placed an order for sweet potato fries – they were making a comeback these days, or so she’d heard – before sitting back and sipping on her vodka tonic.

“Don’t forget the Halloween party next Friday,” Hanna reminded her.

“Trust me, I couldn’t forget it even if I wanted to,” Spencer muttered, stirring the liquid in her glass with a straw. Aria had been mentioning the party at least once daily, usually by text, but sometimes while they were having one of their late night phone calls.

“Good,” Hanna nodded, taking a sip of her own drink. “Because I got you a date.”

Spencer paused. “You did _what_?”

“A date. I got you a date.” Crossing her arms across her chest and huffing when Spencer didn’t answer, Hanna continued, “You know, when two people like each other—”

“—I don’t even know this guy.”

“A blind date, then,” Hanna amended with a roll of her eyes. “You just went on one of those, so don’t tell me you don’t do blind dates. And he’s great. You’ll like him.”

“That’s what Emily said about Logan,” Spencer responded dubiously.

“Mark is better than Logan, okay? He’s like Logan 2.0.”

“So more boring and twice the hair gel?”

Hanna shot her a look. “He’s much better than Logan. And I have better taste in men than Emily does.”

“Did Aria put you up to this?”

“What? No.” The look on Hanna’s face could only be described as incredulous. “She only knows weird, artsy guys. And Mark is neither weird nor artsy.”

“Is he a lawyer?” Spencer quirked a brow in Hanna’s direction.

Hanna made a face at her. “Who do you think I am? No, he’s not a lawyer.”

Spencer considered this for a moment. Finally, she sighed, “Fine. Invite him to Halloween. Why not?” She ran a finger along the edge of her glass, holding back a second sigh. Since her best friends were being so insistent… There wasn’t any harm in seeing what Plan B had to offer, right? “But if it doesn’t go well, you have to get rid of him.”

“You got it.”

 

 

*

Spencer was running half an hour late to the party – something that wasn’t entirely unexpected, considering the number of last-minute problems that cropped up right as she was leaving the office – but by the time she arrived and was checked off the guest list, she was certain that no one would have noticed her late arrival.

The place was packed, and as she gazed out into the sea of costumed individuals, she realized that finding her friends would prove to be a challenge.

Ten minutes and three failed-to-send text messages later, Spencer decided to head for the bar when she literally bumped into a guy dressed as a Tetris block, who just so happened to be talking to a ladybug—

“Spencer?”

Suddenly, Spencer found herself being pulled into a brief hug, and when the other person pulled away, she saw that it was Aria. Dressed as a ladybug. It was sort of cute, if surprising. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Aria smiled, looking down before meeting Spencer’s eyes again. “Did you just get here?”

“Ten minutes ago,” Spencer replied, raising her voice to be heard above the bass.

Aria moved to respond, but then the Tetris block placed a hand on her elbow, stepping into her space and saying something into her ear. Spencer looked away quickly, feeling very much like she was intruding on something private.

Not a minute later, the Tetris block turned to regard Spencer, and Spencer noted that Aria’s cheeks were flushed red. “You ladies have an excellent night.”

“Bye,” Spencer said lamely. When he was gone, Spencer quirked a brow in Aria’s direction.

Aria rolled her eyes. “That’s just James from work.”

Before Spencer had a chance to reply, she was interrupted by none other than Hanna. “Spence,” Hanna was saying, looping an arm through Spencer’s as she gave her a once-over. “Nice costume. Blonde’s an interesting look for you. Where have you been all night? Mark’s here.”

This time, it was Aria’s turn to raise a brow. “Mark, huh?”

Spencer sighed.

“He’s Spencer’s date for tonight,” Hanna answered for her.

“I was set up,” Spencer protested.

“Complain all you want,” Hanna squeezed her arm. “You’re still going to have to meet him.”

As Hanna led her away, Spencer turned to Aria, mouthing an exaggerated, “Save me.”

Aria only laughed and waved.

Traitors, all of them.

 

 

*

Thankfully, Mark wasn’t half bad. A little rough around the edges with fine dark stubble peppering his jawline, but he was a definite improvement over Logan, and Spencer had to hand it to Hanna: she was actually having an okay time. It helped, of course, that he was coincidentally the Jaime Lannister to her Cersei – but then it just got a little too incestuous for her tastes. And in the end, they ran out of things to talk about, and Spencer took the opportunity to awkwardly excuse herself.

She was ordering herself another drink when she spotted Aria and Emily seated at the other end of the bar, and giving the bartender a rather generous tip, she made her way over to the both of them.

“How was Mark?”

“Hello to you too, Aria,” Spencer replied, deadpan.

Emily nudged Aria before turning her attention on Spencer. “She’s a little—uh—”

“I had four of these,” Aria supplied helpfully, gesturing to her glass. “You should try it. Everyone should try it. And Mark. Everyone should try Mark.”

Emily sighed, taking the empty glass from Aria and setting it down on the bar.

Spencer raised a brow. “Tiny _and_ a lightweight.”

Aria must have either chosen to ignore that comment (possible) or was simply distracted by the sudden increase in the tempo of the music (much more likely), because she abruptly jumped up from the barstool, sliding to the ground easily, and turned to both Spencer and Emily with an excited grin in place. “Come on. I love this song.” And without waiting for either of them, Aria pushed her way into the crowd.

“Okay,” Spencer started, staring after Aria. “How are you completely sober when she’s… not?”

Emily laughed and leaned in. “Who said I was completely sober?”

Spencer snorted.

“And Aria’s just—”

Spencer didn’t have the chance to find out just what Aria was, because Aria – bouncing along to the beat, hair messed up in a way that suited her – had returned to physically drag the both of them into the throngs and throngs of people. Spencer tried to ignore the way her heels stuck to the alcohol-covered floor as she joined the mass of dancing people, instead focusing on the warmth of Aria’s hand on her wrist.

“Spencer,” Aria said, breath warm against Spencer’s ear.

Spencer looked up and jerked away when she realized how close Aria was.

Aria didn’t seem to notice and only leaned closer, pout forming on her face. “Dance.”

Next to her, Emily laughed. “Yeah, Spencer, _dance._ ”

Turning to glare at Emily – who was doing a much better job at dancing than Spencer ever could – Spencer gave in. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Aria’s responding grin made her heart drop, but that was easily explained by the alcohol. Potent stuff, that was.

 

 

*

One dance turned into two, which turned into five, which turned into—

Well. It was _late._

By the time she and Aria flagged down a cab, both Hanna and Emily had long left for home.

The cab driver was playing some pop song – Spencer could never keep track of the music these days – and Spencer rested her head against the window, staring outside. At one point, she glanced over at Aria, head still on the window. “You wore that to work?”

Aria looked down at her costume, then at Spencer. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing. I wish I didn’t work for a boring Wall Street company. You know what I wore to work? Work clothes. Very plain.”

“Maybe you should consider a career change,” Aria suggested, leaning back against the seat and closing her eyes.

Spencer smiled. “Maybe I should.”

They spent the rest of the taxi ride in silence, and when the cab driver pulled over in front of Aria’s apartment, Spencer had to shake the other woman awake.

“You sure you don’t just want to stay over?” Aria asked as she stepped out of the car.

Spencer shook her head. “I have to be up early tomorrow.”

Aria seemed unconvinced. “Okay. Well. Text me when you get back.”

“Will do, ma’am,” Spencer replied, mock-saluting her friend.

She waited until Aria was safely inside the building before giving the cab driver directions to her place.

 

 

*

**_From: Aria Montgomery, 4 Nov 2023, 2:37AM_ **

> _Are you home yet?_

**_To: Aria Montgomery, 4 Nov 2023, 2:50AM_ **

> _Just got home._

**_From: Aria Montgomery, 4 Nov 2023, 2:52AM_ **

> _Okay. Night. :)_

**_To: Aria Montgomery, 4 Nov 2023, 2:57AM_ **

> _Night._

 

 

*


	4. memories are mapped out by the lines we'll trace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter only took nine months! I apologize for the delay; my muse does what it wants, when it wants, and no amount of wrangling seems to help.

On a scale of one to ten – one being relaxing on the beach with a piña colada, and ten being pull-your-hair-out-stressful – Spencer typically fluctuated between a six and an eight on a regular day. But the end of year rush was proving to be particularly stressful, and the bags under her eyes showed just how much it was taking a toll on her. Her phone rang off the hook, sometimes even _after_ she had retired to bed for the evening, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a decent night’s sleep.

When her phone buzzed again on a dreary Tuesday morning, Spencer had half a mind to ignore it and let it go to voicemail. A quick glance at it, however, told her that it was Aria, and she found herself fiddling with the touchscreen in a hasty attempt to answer it.

“Lunch today?” chirped Aria’s voice over the phone, and Spencer wondered how she could be so cheery.

(Probably because she didn’t have a job she hated, Spencer’s mind answered for her.)

Glancing down at her packed schedule, Spencer sighed. “I can’t,” she said apologetically. “But I have a half hour free on Friday.”

Aria hummed, and Spencer knew she was looking over her own schedule. “I have a lunch meeting on Friday. What are you doing on Saturday?”

“A client,” Spencer groaned, dropping her head into her hands.

“A client?” Aria repeated, and her voice had taken on a scandalized tone. “Spencer Hastings—”

Spencer paused, replaying the conversation in her mind. “Not like that,” she corrected with a frown, tapping her pen against the table.

Aria laughed. “You should just have your secretary send me your schedule.”

“Or you could send yours to him, and he can pencil you in.”

“Okay, but really: when are you free?”

“Next Thursday?”

“All right. I’ll see you then.”

 

 

*

Work, it seemed, was an even more fickle fellow than fate was, and work was what prevented Spencer from meeting up with Aria that Thursday. Most of the beginning of November was spent communicating via text or calls, the latter usually over a glass of wine after a busy day where Spencer was concerned. Sometimes, she’d have a glass of scotch, neat, but she had to admit that was much more her father’s thing than her own.

“Are you going back to Rosewood for Thanksgiving?” Aria asked over the phone one night.

“Yeah,” Spencer replied, setting her glass down on the coffee table. “Is Mike coming down from Boston to visit you for the holidays this year?” It was just Aria and Mike Stateside, ever since Aria’s parents had returned to Iceland a few years back.

“No,” Aria responded. “He’ll drop by for Christmas, because there’s—and I quote—‘a total babe’ he’s seeing, but he’s out on the West Coast this year.”

Spencer snorted. “Must be a pretty serious ‘babe,’ if he’s coming back to see her.”

“That’s what I said!” Aria exclaimed with a laugh. “But he’s denying it.”

“Men,” Spencer rolled her eyes.

Aria made a noise of agreement.

“Well,” Spencer began, taking a sip of her wine. “If you don’t have other plans, you’re welcome to join my family for Thanksgiving. I promise there’ll be general displeasure expressed over my choice of career, lots of comparisons drawn between me and Melissa, and a decent amount of alcohol to make the weekend that much more entertaining.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t go into sales.”

Spencer snorted again. “Did I mention the alcohol?”

“Yes, you did. This makes it twice now.”

“Does this mean you’ll be there?”

“Of course I’ll be there, Spence,” Aria sighed, though it sounded more fond than exasperated. Spencer supposed that was not a bad thing. “If only to glare at your parents when they express their disapproval.”

“You don’t have to _posture_ ,” Spencer said, smiling now. “Just admit that you miss my mother’s delicious stuffing and that you’re showing up to get the recipe.”

“Thwarted again!” Aria laughed. “You know me too well.”

Spencer grinned, adjusting the phone so that it rested more comfortably between her ear and her shoulder.

“So I’ll see you on Wednesday? You _will_ be done with work by Wednesday evening, right?”

“Yes, yeah,” Spencer nodded, and though she wasn’t entirely certain, she could only hope. Even her clients had to take a break sometime. “I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

 

 

*

Thanksgiving wasn’t far off – maybe slightly over a week – but it took its time in arriving. If anyone asked Spencer, she would’ve sworn that she could literally count each passing second, so slow was the time to pass. But arrive Thanksgiving did, on a late Wednesday evening after a full day of frantic calls, hurried paperwork, and rushed farewells.

Spencer was done with work much later than she would have liked – she had aimed to get out of the office in the early afternoon, but it seemed that work was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. (It was definitely more accurate to say that Jack saw her presence as prime opportunity to pile more assignments onto her desk.)

By the time she pulled up in front of Aria’s apartment building, it was approaching nine o’clock, and she pressed the buzzer to her friend’s apartment with a certain degree of trepidation.

“Sorry I’m late,” Spencer apologized as soon as Aria emerged from her building, and she moved forward to help Aria with her suitcase (a small one – sensible enough for a weekend trip).

Aria waved her off, fitting her suitcase into the trunk of Spencer’s car. “Let me guess: work,” she remarked wryly.

Spencer, for her part, had the grace to look sheepish.

“Here,” Aria continued, digging into her purse and producing a large paper bag, which she handed to Spencer.

“What’s this?” Spencer asked, even as she reached for the bag.

“A sandwich,” Aria replied. “I had a feeling you forgot to eat.”

It was strange, Spencer thought, to have a friend who knew you so well. Strange, but kind of nice. “Thanks. Really.”

“You’re welcome.” Aria smiled at her. “So. Want me to drive?”

 

 

*

Spencer stared out the window as Aria took the wheel, and they spoke briefly as Spencer finished her sandwich, but Spencer was so exhausted from the day she’d had that after a while, she drifted off, the steady hum of the car as it drove on coupled with the dulcet tones of a jazz singer – Fitzgerald, perhaps – lulling her to sleep. She only woke when Aria put a hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake.

“We’re here.”

Spencer took a deep breath in when she entered the house, the faintest hint of cinnamon and cherry wood filling her senses. It was home, and it was nice to be back. It was also pitch dark, and she set her things down in the foyer to turn on the lights.

“Melissa’s in the guest house,” Spencer informed Aria, picking her things back up, “so you’ll be upstairs in the guest bedroom.”

“Sure,” Aria responded easily, stifling a yawn.

Spencer led Aria through the kitchen and to the guest room upstairs – not that Aria needed to be led anywhere, not in the Hastings home, but common courtesy and her upbringing wouldn’t have it any other way. Spencer lingered in the doorway as Aria unpacked a few essentials – a toiletries kit, from what Spencer could see from here, as well as pajamas.

“You should go to bed, Spencer.” Aria turned to regard Spencer with the smallest of smiles, and Spencer suddenly realized that Aria, too, looked tired. It seemed that she wasn’t the only one with a penchant for long days in the office. “I’ll be fine. I still know my way around here.”

“Okay.” A pause. “Good night, Aria.”

“Night, Spence.”

 

 

*

Spencer woke up the next morning feeling more rested than she had in weeks.

When she came downstairs for breakfast, she found Aria seated at the kitchen table, conversing with Melissa and her parents. It wasn’t any different from how it had been in high school, but Spencer still felt an odd flutter at her belly as she took in the scene.

“Morning,” Aria greeted, shooting Spencer a bright smile as she shuffled her way to the table.

Spencer grunted in response. She may have had her fair share of sleep, but it didn’t change the fact that she wasn’t a morning person.

“There’s some eggs left,” Aria added, “ _and_ some coffee.”

“Coffee?” Spencer immediately brightened, glancing over at the coffee machine. Sure enough, there sat a pot of coffee, still piping hot.

“Manners, Spencer,” her mother chided gently.

Spencer blinked. “—Morning, everyone.” She moved to the sink, reaching into the cabinet above it for a mug and pouring herself some coffee before joining everyone at the table.

“Aria here was just telling us about your drive over,” her father supplied.

Her mother nodded. “You should have just driven up today, Spencer, if you were coming in so late.”

“It’s all right, Mrs. Hastings,” Aria replied quickly with a reassuring smile, saving Spencer from having to come up with a response. “We wanted to be here last night. If we’d left any earlier, we would’ve run into rush hour traffic – and holiday traffic in the morning would’ve been a nightmare.”

Spencer nodded absently in agreement as she took a sip of her coffee. Idly, she wondered when they had turned into a ‘we,’ but perhaps that was something she could dissect at a later time.

“I was stuck on the 30 for an hour this morning,” Melissa agreed, looking up from her newspaper.

Spencer glanced at her, surprised. “I thought you came in last night.”

Melissa shook her head. “I just got here half an hour ago.”

“Your father and I are glad you’re both here. And you, too, of course, Aria—”

Aria smiled back. Spencer tried for a smile, but it was probably more of a grimace than anything.

“—but look at the time. Peter, we have to get to the club. The Joneses have their Meet-and-Greet at eleven.”

“Today?” Spencer interjected.

Spencer was impressed with the way her mother rolled her eyes. Usually, she was all for country club events, insisting that Spencer tag along and meet the right people. “You know the Joneses. If it’s inconvenient for everyone else, it’s the best time for them.” She sighed. “We’ll be back to start dinner, but if you girls want to cook anything in the meantime, or if there are ingredients you need for a dish, run out to the corner store – it should be open till noon.”

“Right,” Spencer responded, and watched her parents sweep out of the room.

There was a moment of silence, in which Spencer sipped her coffee, Melissa continued her perusal of today’s papers, and Aria—

Aria was approaching her now with a pan of leftover eggs. Spencer leaned away as she came up close, spooning the remainder into her empty plate.

“Eat your breakfast,” Aria said, nudging at Spencer. “I want to go see the high school when you’re done.”

Spencer could’ve sworn she heard Melissa snort, but when she looked over, her sister still had her nose buried in the newspaper.

“Okay,” was all Spencer could think to say as she helped herself to the lukewarm eggs.

It was as good a plan as any.

 

 

*

Rosewood High was exactly how Spencer had remembered it, if a little smaller.

Or maybe, she mused, she had just grown a little since then.

The school itself was closed, of course, but Aria wanted to check it out anyway, first peering in through the windows, then fiddling with the doors in the back entrance. “Don’t worry; this used to work when we were seniors,” Aria explained off of Spencer’s alarmed look – it was at this point in time that Spencer decided it was best to make herself scarce, and soon she found her feet taking her to the field hockey field.

Aria found her here half an hour later, lying in the middle of the field.

“There you are,” Aria said, standing over Spencer and blocking most of the sunlight.

Spencer opened her eyes and squinted up at Aria. “Was your break-in successful?”

Aria smirked. “No. You ready to go?”

Spencer nodded and allowed Aria to pull her to her feet.

They spent the rest of the day visiting their teenage haunts, and returned just in time to help with dinner preparations.

“You’re late,” Melissa told them the minute they walked through the door, though Spencer noted it was without her usual bite.

“By five minutes,” Spencer retorted anyway.

Aria placed a hand on Spencer’s arm, as though trying to diffuse the tension that—wasn’t really there.  

“How can we help?”

 

 

*

All in all, Thanksgiving Dinner was—unexpectedly nice.

Good wine, great food – who knew Aria was a master chef in the kitchen? – and as far as Hastings family reunions went, this was definitely one of the better ones.

Spencer told Hanna as much over Skype, stretched out on Aria’s bed while Aria took a shower across the hall.

“No comparisons between you and Melissa?”

“A few,” Spencer admitted, “but it wasn’t as intense as usual.”

Hanna’s nod was transmitted as a series of choppy images, and the next words out of her mouth were lost in the crackle of bad Internet connection.

“What?” Spencer stared at the screen, gently tapping the screen with a hand – it never worked, but she always felt it was better to do that than nothing at all. “You’re breaking up.”

“Do you have a date lined up yet?” Hanna repeated – and talk about a complete non sequitur. “For the wedding.”

Groaning, Spencer rubbed her eyes. “No. I try not to think about it.” She didn’t want to think about it, but she knew better than to say that out loud.

“Well, _you_ don’t have to,” Hanna allowed – which, _what?_ “But doesn’t Aria have to? It’s her turn, right?”

“Is that what you guys are doing?” Spencer responded dryly.

“Hey, if you won’t do it…”

“Look, I don’t trust any of you to find me a date.”

“You said you liked Mark,” Hanna protested.

“He was more interesting than Logan,” Spencer agreed, “but it doesn’t mean I want to go on a second date with him. I definitely don’t want to bring him to the wedding.”

“You know what your problem is?” Hanna asked. Without waiting for a response, she barreled on, “You’re too picky.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“In this case it is!” Hanna sighed. “Maybe I’ll post a Craigslist ad for you. ‘Woman seeking male escort for wedding. Free alcohol and food. Interested parties please contact Spencer Hastings.’”

“Because that will end well.”

“I’ll get Caleb to fend off the creeps for you,” Hanna offered.

Spencer rolled her eyes. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Hang on,” Hanna said. Spencer thought maybe she heard Hanna’s ringtone through Skype – and then Hanna was back. “Shit, sorry, but I have to go. Fashion emergency – I just hope it’s not the designs for Fashion Week in Paris. Tell Aria I said hi.”

“I will,” Spencer promised. “Happy Thanksgiving, Hanna.”

“You too.”

 

 

*

Aria came back into the room not too long after Spencer had said goodbye to Hanna – at least, Spencer assumed it wasn’t much later; she had fallen asleep by the time Aria returned, and only woke up when the bed dipped with a new weight and she rolled into Aria, who was warm from the shower.

Blearily, Spencer blinked up at Aria. “Hey,” she yawned. “Sorry.” She muffled a groan into the pillow, stretching. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You can just sleep here, you know,” Aria mused, swinging her legs up onto the bed. Her knee was digging into Spencer’s side, but Spencer found that she didn’t mind. It wasn’t too uncomfortable, and it almost made Spencer want to curl around Aria. Almost. “It’s not like we’ve never had a sleepover before.”

It _was_ rather tempting.

“Okay,” Spencer acquiesced, shifting so that she could pull the covers over herself. “But if I elbow you in the middle of the night—”

“—it’ll be like high school all over again,” Aria finished for her.

“Just remember that you were the one who invited me to spend the night.”

“All right. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Aria said with a smile as she slipped under the covers as well.

And suddenly, Spencer was aware of how close Aria was to her. She smelled like—whatever fruity shampoo it was she had used. It smelled nice. _She_ smelled nice.

“Spence?”

Aria’s words broke Spencer’s train of thought and Spencer jerked back, surprised. “Yeah?”

There was a twinkle in Aria’s eye. “Will you get the lights?”

Spencer sighed and rolled over so she could turn off the bedside lamp.

This time, when she settled back into bed, she made sure she was faced away from Aria and her stupid shampoo, and she fell asleep moments later, to the sound of Aria’s steady breathing and the beating of her own heart.

 

 

*

The remainder of the weekend passed quickly in a blur of fall barbecues and more events at the country club, some of which Spencer successfully avoided – begging off with an invented headache – and others she was roped into regardless of the excuse she concocted.

Either way, she spent the time with Aria, who didn’t seem to mind doing whatever Spencer was doing, whether it was lounging indoors and watching movies on Netflix or schmoozing with dreadfully dull, rich people at the club.

“Don’t worry about it, Spence,” Aria had said when Spencer inquired after her well-being – she would’ve understood had Aria needed a break. “Your family’s not so bad.”

Spencer had to hand it to Aria: the ease with which she handled Spencer’s parents, the way she spoke with some longtime clients of her parents – nothing seemed to faze her, and even Melissa seemed impressed. Had Spencer been in Aria’s shoes, she was certain she wouldn’t have had the patience to deal with half of what Aria had to deal with.

She’d have to find a way to thank her somehow.

Sunday evening found Spencer fitting her suitcase next to Aria’s in the trunk. With everything in place, she shut the trunk, momentarily startled when she realized that Melissa was leaning against the side of her car. How long had she been standing there?

“You two seem close,” her sister remarked.

“We’re best friends,” Spencer said, slowly. She wondered if her sister actually wanted to discuss Aria – or if there was some other ulterior motive. Perhaps _Aria_ was her ulterior motive, whatever that could mean. “It kind of comes with the territory.”

Melissa regarded Spencer thoughtfully. “Not everything I say is an insult, Spencer.”

“Right,” Spencer muttered.

“It’s nice that you’ve kept in touch after all these years. She’s good for you.”

Spencer wanted to protest—not about the fact that Aria was good for her; that, Spencer would be the first to admit—but Spencer couldn’t quite agree with the way Melissa had chosen to word her sentence. The way Melissa was looking at Spencer, as though she was expecting some sort of response from her, made her feel unsettled, and in the end, Spencer could only shrug.

“Yeah,” Spencer said. “She is.”

 

 

*

The drive back to New York was relatively quiet, which was fine by Spencer – she figured they were both unwinding from the long weekend.

“Thanks for joining me on Thanksgiving. And for putting up with my family,” Spencer said when she dropped Aria off.

Aria leaned in through the passenger side window and smiled. “Spencer, seriously. I had fun this weekend.”

Spencer knew this, of course, but it always helped to hear it again.

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“I wasn’t going to let you spend Thanksgiving alone,” Spencer said, making a face. “What kind of a friend would I be?”

“A pretty terrible one,” Aria teased.

“Exactly.”

“Well,” Aria said, straightening. “Drive safe. Don’t forget to text me when you get back.”

“I won’t.”

 

 

*


End file.
